all of the voices surrounding us here
by yulbos
Summary: "Mar, you're going to have to be a bit more specific than 'the venue's fucking me about' in order for me to actually do anything." Wedding planner AU.


**I watched my nephew get married the other day and this is the result. For those who're wondering, I have abandoned _what souls are_ , I've just been working on a new project that's taken up a lot of my time and creativity recently. Title from Ed Sheeran's _Tenerife Sea_ because that song followed my around all weekend.**

* * *

James wakes up to seven missed calls, four texts and a rather harried voice message, and it's only nine-thirty in the morning. He groans, rolling over and rubbing a hand through his hair. He unlocks his phone one handed, using the other to scratch at his stomach as he scrolls through his notifications. He's just started reading the first of his emails when the phone rings again, and he sighs.

"Hello, Marlene." He says, his voice too rusty from lack of use to hit the level of cheerfulness he was aiming for.

"James!" Marlene virtually shouts, and James winces. "I've been calling you all morning!"

"I'm aware," James replies dryly, smiling slightly despite himself. He gets out of bed and stumbles a few steps before managing to regain his footing as he heads for his kitchen. "It's half nine in the morning; what do you want?"

Marlene huffs and there's a strange rustling sound on the other end which James would like to imagine is her getting out of bed. He knows better however, knows her well enough to recognise her stomping her foot in irritation. It would be endearing if she weren't nearly twenty-eight years old and an experienced lawyer. "I'm meant to be getting married in three days and the venue's fucking me about. Sort it out, would you?"

"Mar, you're going to have to be a bit more specific than 'the venue's fucking me about' in order for me to actually do anything." James tries to be patient, he really does. But, well, coffee was an invention created purely for moments like this, and he has yet to drink any this morning. That will soon change, as he flicks the kettle on and reaches for both a mug and a sachet of instant coffee. He has neither the time nor the patience to brew a proper pot.

"Seeing as Benjy's great-aunt has suddenly decided she doesn't want to see him marrying a scrubber like me, and we've had to find someone to replace her, I wanted to check a few things on the menu. But now they're telling me they don't actually have the orders that I gave them. They've lost my sodding orders, James!" Marlene understandably, now that James knows the seriousness of the situation, sounds like she's on the verge of tears and he makes a sympathetic noise.

"I'll have a word." He promises. "If all else fails, we'll just order fish and chips on the day, yeah?"

"We will not!" Marlene snaps, but she's laughing. "I'm sorry. I'm probably just overreacting, but I panicked."

"Hey," James says softly, watching the water in the kettle start bubbling. "As your wedding planner, that's what I'm here for. As your friend, I kind of hate you."

Marlene laughs again and James smiles. "Which side's winning?"

James hums just as the kettle clicks off, and he reaches for it. "Ask me again in five minutes."

Marlene makes a very undignified noise and then sighs. "Look, I have to go, or I'll be late for a meeting, but thank you."

"Alright, go," James grins as he stirs a tiny spoonful of sugar into his coffee. "Defend the law, or whatever it is you do."

He hangs up a few moments later and stares at his reflection in the glass of the kitchen cupboard in front of him. He chews at his bottom lip, rubs a hand over his face and lets out a deep breath. "Shower," he mumbles, picking up his mug and wandering in the vague direction of his bathroom, "I'm going to have a shower before I take on the world."

.

The venue Marlene and Benjy have chosen for their ceremony and reception is lovely. It's a shame the same cannot be said about its owner. Bertha Jorkins is a tough old lady, with her own ideas about how the wedding (any wedding she permits to take place on her property, really) should be organised. If James weren't so scared of her, he'd probably be in awe of her. As it is, he kind of hates her.

"Look," he says for what feels like the fiftieth time, although it's probably only the third, "I'm not saying it's a fault on your end. But Marlene definitely handed the orders over; I watched her do it, even!"

"Why has she waited so long to ask about this?" Bertha demands, her eyebrows drawn down so far they're hidden behind the thick rims of her glasses.

"Because," James tries really hard to keep the exasperation out of his voice, "she thought you had them. It wasn't until someone cancelled that she thought about it."

Bertha 'humph's and stomps into her office. The filing cabinet drawer that she yanks open is in such disarray that James is hard pressed to avoid shuddering. She flicks through papers, muttering to herself as she does so, until she stops on one page in particular and frowns even more severely than she already was. James is honestly impressed with how far down her face her eyebrows have managed to crawl.

"We haven't got the stock in to cater for everyone, and I don't know if our supplier will be able to get it in before the day." She says, not looking up from the paper. "But I'll see what I can do."

James looks at the floor so she won't see his smile. "Bertha, you are an angel." If it were anyone else, he'd kiss them on the cheek for good measure, but Bertha looks like she'll kill him if he gets within two feet of her, so he keeps his distance. "Now that that's sorted, is it alright if I have a bit of a wander round?"

Bertha grunts, which he takes as a yes, and he gets back outside as quickly as possible. The grounds really are beautiful, with wide open gardens, flowerbeds full to the brim with brightly coloured plants, and neatly trimmed hedges where bees flit about between the flowers. The building the ceremony will take place in is a large, converted outhouse, made of sandstone that gleams pink in the mid-morning sun.

James steps inside, pulling his phone out of his pocket and sliding it open with his thumb. He checks to make sure no one's around and then pulls up Sirius' number, pressing 'call' and lifting the phone to his ear.

Sirius picks up on the fourth ring. "Hey, mate, what's up?"

"We might have a bit of a problem." He says quietly.

"This being the royal 'we', I hope." Sirius mutters back, although who he's hiding from, James doesn't know.

"Well," James says, taking a few steps across the room and looking out the window into one of the gardens outside. There's a man out there watering the flowers with a hosepipe, and James smiles to himself. "That depends. See, dear old Bertha misplaced everybody's orders. Which means she's not sure if they're going to have all the food necessary for the amount of guests."

Sirius groans. "Which means what, for me, exactly?"

James clears his throat and scuffs the toe of his shoe against the wooden floor. "I might need a favour. I might, potentially, need you to do a bit of catering."

"Prongs," Sirius starts and then lets out a long sigh. "How many people are going to be there again?"

"Twenty-six. Including us." James says. "You know I wouldn't normally ask, but I'm in a bit of a bind."

"Yeah, yeah." Sirius grumbles, but James can hear the smile he's trying to hide. "Just remember that the cake is top priority, right? Marlene would have my head if I cocked it up."

"No worries," James lets out a relieved groan and stretches one arm above his head. "I'll give you the orders later."

"Cheers," Sirius says, sarcasm virtually dripping through the phone. "Well, if you all you wanted me for was to use and abuse me, I'm going."

"I love you." James declares, grinning at the snort Sirius lets out.

"You're only saying that because you want something." Sirius says. "At least my love for you is pure."

"That's a lie." James crosses back across the room and closes the door softly behind him as he leaves the building. The gardener has moved on, only the top of his head visible as he bobs between the flowerbeds. The hosepipe follows him like a bright blue snake, coiled across the grass.

"I really do need to go, though." Sirius says. "My break's over in a few minutes."

"Alright." The disappointment creeps into his voice and he frowns at himself. "I see how it is; you choose getting paid over your best friend, I understand."

"Yeah, whatever." Sirius says with a laugh. "See you later, you needy sod."

.

The night before the wedding arrives a lot more quickly than James had anticipated, but he doesn't have the time to worry about anything he might have missed as Marlene has gone into panic mode. He spends thirty minutes talking her out of going to see Bertha about the food by promising her that, yes, the supplier had pulled through in the end and that there is nothing to worry about. Sirius also distracts her by threatening to ruin her cake if she doesn't sit down and let Mary paint her toenails. It's surprisingly effective.

"James," Marlene says, as Mary moves onto her left foot, nail varnish brush gleaming turquoise in the overhead light, "Lily, the florist, is due to get here any minute. Could you go and meet her for me? Please?"

James doesn't really have a reason to say no, so he leaves Marlene's hotel room and meanders down to the lobby. There's no one around, not even behind the desk, so he steps outside and sits on one of the wooden benches just off the path. He's lost in thought, staring at the rose bush opposite him, when a van pulls up. He gets to his feet when a woman jumps out of the driver's seat, red hair flying as she hurries to the back of the van and yanks one of the doors open.

"Lily?" He asks when he gets close enough to see that she's got her head buried somewhere behind a box of flowers.

She starts, head shooting up and narrowly avoids colliding with the door that's closed. "I-, uh, yeah." She says, rolls her eyes and then clears her throat. "I mean, yes. That would be me."

"I'm James Potter." James says. "Marlene sent me to meet you. Mary's currently got her trapped in her room, so she couldn't come herself."

"Mary hasn't had to strap her down yet, has she?" Lily asks with a smile.

"Not yet, although she's come close a few times, I think." James says, matching Lily's smile with one of his own. "Do you need help with anything?"

"If you could carry the box with the buttonholes in it, that'd be fab." Lily hands over the box in question, and then picks up one herself.

"Do you know where you're going?" Lily's already started up the path towards the main door, and she turns to quirk an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah, I've worked here a few times. Plus I came the other day to sort out space in the basement." True to her word, Lily navigates the narrow corridors with ease, and James follows in silence as he tries to keep the box of flowers steady. She props the box on her hip and fishes a set of keys out of her jacket pocket.

"Do you find Bertha as terrifying as I do, or am I alone in my fear?" James asks as they go into the cellar, and Lily laughs. She places her box down on a countertop and then takes his too.

"Oh no, Bertha is a force unto herself." She quickly pulls her hair into a ponytail and blows a few strands out of her face as she looks at him. "You wouldn't be able to pay me to get on her bad side."

"I can never tell if I'm on her bad side, or not, to be honest." James readjusts his glasses and runs a hand through his hair. "It's bloody freezing in here, so, do you need any more help?"

"Oh!" Lily exclaims and gives him a sheepish smile. "If you could help me carry a few more boxes in, that'd be great, thanks. Dorcas will help me actually set up, but she's going to be a little while, and I'd rather have the boxes inside."

"No problem." James says, glad to be out of the cellar. "So, beside florist, are you doing anything tomorrow?"

"I'm one of the bridesmaids. Which wouldn't be so bad, if I didn't know I'm going to be worrying about the flowers." Lily gives a resigned sigh. They've reached the van and she pulls the door open again, so James can see four long cardboard boxes full of floral arrangements.

"Oh, I know the feeling." He says as Lily pulls on of the boxes out and hands it to him. She pauses and gives him a curious frown. "I'm one of the groomsmen, but I planned the entire thing, so I'm going to spend more time thinking about how everything's going wrong instead of what I'm meant to be doing."

"You're the wedding planner?" Lily demands. "What're you helping me for? Surely you've already done enough, why aren't you upstairs relaxing?"

"'Relaxing' will not be in my vocabulary until at least two days after the wedding." James says, lifting the flowers out of Lily's reach when it looks like she's about to take them off of him. "The night before is usually the most stressful, and feeling useful calms me down. So let me help."

"Okay," Lily concedes, kicking the van door shut behind her and heading back towards the hotel. "But I'm buying you a drink tomorrow."

James raises an eyebrow and grins. "If you wanted to ask me out…" He starts, and laughs at the look Lily gives him.

"Don't make me take the offer of free alcohol away, Potter." Lily says, but he can see her lips twitching.

He holds his free hand up. "I wouldn't dream of it. Although I feel that we're at a bit of a disadvantage, seeing as you know my full name."

Lily rolls her eyes and shakes her head, but smiles anyway and offers him a hand to shake. "Lily Evans."

"It's lovely to meet you, Lily Evans." James says, taking her hand.


End file.
